


Time After Time

by PaigeTurner



Series: Bullet Points [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Explicit Language, F/M, Holidays, Pets, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, The "sass" in "assassin"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTurner/pseuds/PaigeTurner
Summary: A quiet "domestic Avengers" type tale, in which Natasha finds that Clint's family is her family.





	1. Chapter 1

05.04.02; 8:06

42.7300707,-92.5132795 (The Barton Homestead)

“You’ve had a few days to rest and settle in, ready to start pulling your weight?” Clint asked.

Natasha looked at him, one eyebrow came up as her chin dropped into her neck. 

“I’ll teach you to drive a tractor.”

“Is that meant to be a selling point?”

“We’ll start you off with feeding the critters. Come on.” Clint stopped in the kitchen. “Let Beau out every morning, first thing. Make sure he’s got food, one scoop, and water.” He showed Natasha the dog’s dishes and where his food was kept, then led her out to the barn. 

“Step two, the kitties. Food and water. That’s Stinky, Sleepy, Slowpoke, Skittery and Sneezy.” He pointed to each cat as he said its name. Only Skittery looked up. Clint put on an apron with rows of small pockets sewn to the front and picked up a burlap sack with a picture of a chicken screened onto the front. 

Natasha followed him to the chicken coop.

“We don’t name the chickens. I tried. It didn’t end well.” Clint unlatched the door. “Breakfast time, ladies.” He tossed handfuls of feed mixture out onto the ground and a flock of hens descended from the coop to eat. “Then we gather eggs.” 

Natasha soon discovered what the pockets on the apron were for. 

“I hired a couple guys to help out while we were gone, but we’re still behind on the garden,” Clint explained as he unloaded the eggs. “If you think you’re up to it, that whole patch between the barn and the house needs to be weeded and tilled.”

Natasha nodded. She’d misjudged the agent. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected of Clint, but a wife and a dog and flock of chickens wasn’t it.

***

05.08.02, 07:15

Laura brought seedlings up from an underground greenhouse. She and Natasha planted, labeled and caged the tiny green sprouts. Weeding and watering the garden were added to Natasha’s list of chores.

***

05.12.02; 05:50

Natasha woke. She let Beau out, filled his dishes with fresh water and food. She started the coffee brewing while he did his business and ate. 

She started a load of laundry running and took care of the cats and the chickens. She inspected and sorted eggs. It had rained overnight; the garden wouldn’t need watering. 

Clint sat in the kitchen when she came back in, drinking coffee in his boxers. “Morning.”

“Is it okay if I go for a walk?” Natasha asked. 

Beauregard, stretched out on the floor in front of the sink, raised his head. 

“You remember where the property lines are?” Clint stirred a pot on the stove. 

“Yes.”

“Don’t go further than that.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Take Beau along, he could use the exercise.”

Natasha had to slow her pace for the old dog, but she found she didn’t mind his company. They strolled through the fields. When they returned to the house, Beauregard sat on the porch while Natasha took off her shoes and went inside. She came out with an tattered towel to wipe the mud off his paws. 

The walks became a near-daily ritual, as much a part of her routine as her mind-numbing chores. 

***

05.21.02; 02:28

Natasha didn’t remember the details of her nightmare, just the emotions that came with it. Fear gripped her chest and she made a strangled noise as she struggled to draw in a breath. A soft whine responded. 

The alarm clock gave off just enough light for her to see Beauregard standing at her bedside. His chin rested on the mattress, his nose just inches from hers, flooding her face with his doggy breath. She wrinkled her nose and pulled her head back. 

“Ugh. You stink.” 

He sat and one paw came up to rest on the bed. 

Natasha’s heart was still pounding. “You’re not supposed to be on the furniture,” she whispered.

Another paw joined the first and with a little bounce, he jumped onto the mattress. The bed creaked an objection to the additional eighty-odd pounds. Natasha stroked his fur until her breathing slowed and she drifted back to sleep. 

***

05.27.02; 06:03

“Mattesons are having a pot luck,” Laura remarked as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I said I’d bring potato salad.”

Clint looked at Natasha, who was flipping through yesterday’s newspaper. “You want to meet some of the neighbors?”

Natasha raised one eyebrow and sipped her coffee. “Why?”

“It’s Memorial Day,” Laura replied. “They're having a get-together. You don’t have to come.”

“What’s Memorial Day?”

“The last Monday in May,” Laura answered. “We honor those who died serving our country. Apparently by having cook-outs.”

“And parades,” Clint added.

“And sales on linens and small appliances. Anyway, I made a commitment.” She sliced a grapefruit in half. 

“To feed our neighbors potato salad,” Clint said. 

Natasha shrugged. “How would you introduce me? Surely your neighbors know you don’t have a niece.”

“Will you be alright home alone?” Clint asked, exchanging worried glances with Laura.

“I’m a deadly assassin raised by a shadowy government agency. Besides, I’ll have the dog.”

***

05.27.02; 15:46

Freezing mist hung in the air, turning the world an out-of-focus grey. It was almost like being blind; Natasha could see no further than her own hand, outstretched into the fog. She heard the weak wail of an infant. The sound cut to her bones, and Natasha shuddered. Slowly she turned her head, straining to hear it again. 

Somewhere in the dank grey, the child cried out again. She moved towards the sound. The tiny voice had the uncertain rasp of a newborn. She felt something move past her in the thick mist, like the sudden chill of the sun passing behind a cloud. Something else was seeking her child. Natasha immediately accepted the notion that the child she was looking for was her own. 

The mist was gone. The air was warm, and she could see the sunlight even through her closed eyelids. Her eyes snapped open as she heard a baby cry. Natasha awoke on the couch in the Barton’s living room. She tried to get up immediately, but her legs were pinned beneath Beauregard. 

Turning her head, her gaze fell on the television. A man with a mustache held an obviously fake prop baby wrapped in blankets. Natasha’s racing heart began to slow. “A dream,” she whispered.

Beau groaned and shifted his weight slightly. 

She leaned off the edge of the couch, stretching to reach the remote. Settling back on the cushions, she flipped through the channels. She stopped on something with a young cop and an old cop. She and Beau were still on the couch when Clint and Laura came home.

***

06.16.02; 05:15

Natasha woke early and crept down to the kitchen without a sound. She started the coffee brewing and got out a large mixing bowl and a set of measuring cups and spoons. 

While the coffee maker hummed and hissed, she measured and mixed. She was dropping spoonfuls of batter into a hot skillet when Clint and Laura came down. 

“G'morning, Princess,” Clint said with a yawn.

“I thought I smelled burning, is everything okay?” Laura immediately came to the stove. 

“The bottom of the pan wasn’t dry, it smoked a little when it heated up,” Natasha explained. 

“You’re making breakfast? What’s the occasion?” Clint asked. 

Natasha hesitated. “It’s - it’s nothing. No occasion.” 

“You know, the only thing we’ve asked is that you don’t lie to us,” he said gently. 

“The calendar said it was Father’s Day. I thought from television that this was how you would celebrate.” She rushed the words out, staring tensely at the pancakes without looking up. “I made you a gift,” she added. “It’s by the coffee maker.”

She didn’t watch as Clint picked up an envelope she’d scavenged from the recycle bin and taped shut. She heard the paper tear and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and poked the pancakes with the edge of the spatula. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Clint whispered. 

“It’s stupid. It’s a stupid gift. I need a job, it was the best I could do with being broke.” Natasha flipped one pancake experimentally.

“You made these?” Three stone arrowheads tumbled out of the envelope and landed in his palm. He picked one up, turning it in the light. 

“I found the stones on my walks,” she explained. “I used some of your tools to shape them. I took good care of your tools.”

Clint set the arrowheads on the countertop and pulled her into a hug. Natasha stiffened. She saw Laura out of the corner of her eye, barely suppressing a smile. She got the sense she wasn’t going to be stabbed in the back and relaxed a little into his arms. 

“Thank you,” he said as he released her. “I love them.”

“Whatever,” Natasha muttered. “You’re not my real dad.” 

Clint laughed and soon Laura and Natasha joined in. 

“You learn that from the tv too?” 

***

07.21.02; 01:03

Natasha seldom slept the whole night through. She couldn’t place why she had awakened this time. Her heart wasn’t pounding with the strain of a nightmare. Clint had left for work two days ago and she’d never admit it, but she was sleeping worse without him in the house. Laura was the same. With Clint gone, Beauregard had taken his side of the master bed. Natasha would definitely not admit that she didn’t sleep as well without the stinky, old dog. A noise had disturbed her. Natasha listened carefully, waiting to hear running water that meant Laura was up to use the restroom. Instead, she heard a thump from downstairs. 

Silently, she slipped out of bed. Natasha glanced down the hall; the door to the master bedroom was closed. Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floors as she carefully stepped over the third step from the bottom, the creaky one Clint kept saying he would fix. 

Thirty-four hundred miles away, Clint’s phone vibrated in his pocket as the back door of the farmhouse swung open.

Natasha attacked the intruder before he could set foot in the house, forcing him back out onto the porch. The waxing moon gave enough light to make out a few features of the man, but Natasha didn’t rely on her vision to fight. Once she made contact, she could target him by touch, attacking joints and pressure points for maximum damage with minimal effort. 

The man smelled of stale cigarettes and beer, but he wasn’t too drunk to fight. Natasha had just managed to pin him, face down on the floor, when Beauregard’s barking interrupted them. The kitchen lights came on, and Laura cast a shadow over Natasha, the dog and the intruder. 

“Beau, sit!” Laura grabbed Beauregard by the collar. “Nat, stop! Let him go.”

Natasha slowly released the man. Laura was holding the shotgun, but she hadn’t aimed it at anyone. As Natasha stood, she raised her hands to shoulder height, showing Laura her open palms.

“Jesus fucks!” The man struggled to untangle his limbs and fell on his ass, staring up at the two women. 

Laura sighed. “Nat, this is Clint’s idiot brother, Barney. Want to tell me why you’re breaking into my house in the middle of the night, Barney?”

He finally stood, brushing off his hands on his jeans. He cracked his neck and shot Laura a nasty look. “I’m here to talk to Clint, bitch.”

Natasha closed the distance between them fast. She slapped him and grabbed his face, squeezing his jaw and forcing him to meet her eyes.  “Watch your mouth, or I’ll break your jaw.”

“Who the fucking shit is this psycho cunt?” He spoke through clenched teeth, looking Natasha up and down without moving his head. 

“She’s a friend,” Laura answered. “And she’s more than capable of making good on her threats. You want to talk to Clint, try using the phone. We’ve both asked you not to come around.”

Natasha let go and Barney rubbed his jaw. Beauregard growled as he craned his neck to look into the house.

“Yeah, well if Clint was home, he’d be here defending his turf, so when do you expect him back?”

“I’ll let him know you stopped by,” Laura responded without answering him.

“Shit.” Barney shuffled his feet and looked down at the porch. “Can you reach him?”

“He’s working, Barney. He works for a living, remember?”

“Fuck you.” He rolled his eyes.

Natasha tensed, restraining herself, but her eyes narrowed at him. He noticed the glare. 

“Hey, fuck you too,” Barney added, grabbing the crotch of his jeans and popping his hips in her direction. 

Natasha set her jaw and swallowed hard.

“Get out of here before the cops show up,” Laura advised. “And sober up before Clint sees you.” She could see the wheels turning behind Barney’s dull eyes, him trying to decide to cut his losses or double down on his stupidity. 

“Look, Laurie-”

She rolled her eyes at the wrong name. 

“I’m in a little spot of trouble. Could, uh, I crash in the barn? Until Clint comes home?”

Laura’s shoulders sagged. She inspected Barney, taking in the rumpled clothes, two-day stubble, and bloodshot eyes. “It’s going to be a few days,” she admitted. “I’ll make up the couch for you.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re a good woman, you’re a good woman, Laurie.” He clasped his hands together. “I’m real sorry about the back door, I’ll get that fixed up before he gets back.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Laura muttered, releasing the dog and turning into the house to find bedding for the couch.

“You know what, though? I will. I’ll take care of it because I really appreciate you letting me into your home.” Barney’s sudden contrition was almost as irritating as his profanity. “I know you think I’m no good and I’m a crook and a layabout, but I just ain’t been lucky like Clint has.”

Natasha lingered on the porch, watching with suspicion as he followed Laura into the house. Beauregard tailed them with his ears tucked back against his head; he sniffed at Barney, who shoved him with the side of his leg and swatted at his nose. Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not luck, Barney.” Laura slammed a folded sheet down onto the sofa. “You make bad choices.”

“Clint’s made bad choices too, he ain’t paid for them the way I have. But you’re right, you’re totally right. I’m going to start making better choices, Laurie. I want to change, I just need a little help.”

She ignored him, unfolding the sheet and spreading it over the cushions, neatly tucking it in at the sides. 

“You know it ain’t easy for me to ask for help,” Barney added. 

Laura draped a light blanket over the couch and turned to face him. She held up one finger. “First, it’s Laura, not Laurie. It was printed on the invitation to the wedding you didn’t bother to attend.” She held up another finger. “Second, it’s the middle of the damned night and the door needs to be sorted out before we can get any sleep. Third, everybody pulls their weight here. You will be up at dawn, no matter how hungover you are and you will be turning the compost heap before the heat of the day hits.”

Barney nodded. “Yeah. Okay. You get some rest, then, I’ll take care of the door. I said I would and I will, I’ll do it right now.”

Laura glared at him for a moment. “Fine. Just remember, I sleep with the shotgun next to my bed.” She stomped up the stairs. She sat on the edge of the bed and called Clint. 

“Hey.”

Just hearing his voice made the knot in Laura’s shoulders loosen. “Did the alarm go off?” she asked.

“Been waiting for your call. I figured I’d give you half an hour before I called Fury. Everything okay?”

“Just a raccoon. I love you. Be safe.”

***

Barney sighed and shuffled back into the kitchen. Natasha was testing the locks on the back door. 

“The door’s fine,” he said. “I know how to bump a lock without hurting it.”

“You said you would fix it.” Natasha’s tone was cold. 

“Because I knew it didn’t need to be fixed. I just wanted the old lady to think I was being helpful.” He leaned against the cabinets, tilting his head to admire her legs. “Who are you?”

When she was satisfied that the house was secure, Natasha turned to face him, straightening up and squaring off. 

“If you do anything to endanger this family, I will end you,” Natasha promised.

“My little brother doesn’t have a lot of friends who can kick my ass.” Barney’s persistent gaze made her skin crawl. “You work with him?”

Natasha shook her head. “Like she said, I’m a friend.” She returned to her bedroom, but she didn’t sleep. 

***

07.21.02; 10:28

Barney was already sweating, and the sun was only getting hotter. He swatted a fly away from his ear and dug the rake into the compost again. The girl strolled up - that damned redhead with the long legs. Barney spared her a quick glance and kept working.

Natasha positioned herself in the shade, watching him work, and holding two glasses of iced tea. “What do you want here?” she asked.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, smudging dirt across his face. “That’s between me and Clint. I got a job I want him to come in on.”

“He already has a job,” she pointed out. 

Barney paused to catch his breath. “Is one of those for me?” He gestured to the tea. 

“Maybe. What kind of job is it?”

He shoved the rake deep into the pile so it would stay standing up and approached her. “If you’re really his friend, you’ll help convince him to take it.”

Natasha shook her head. “I can’t do that without knowing what it is.”

Barney reached for a glass and Natasha pulled it out of reach. He pressed his lips together and slitted his eyes at her. She didn’t budge. 

“I’m involved with some very dangerous people,” he said.

“You have no idea.”

Barney sighed and looked down at the ground for a minute. “It’s a two-man gig. One distracts the guard, the other breaks in and plants a bug. That’s it. Nobody’ll get hurt. And it’s only a little illegal.”

“What’s Clint’s role?” Natasha asked, she brought the glass of tea closer, but she didn’t let go when Barney wrapped his fingers around it. 

“Distraction. It’s less dangerous, really, and he’s better at that kind of thing than me.”

“I’m better at it than Clint.” She relinquished the glass. 

“I bet you are.” Barney stole a glance at her chest and drained half the tea in one gulp. “Are you saying you want in?”

“I’m saying I want Clint out.”

***

07.25.02; 6:03

Laura had no proof that Natasha ever actually slept. The girl was always the last to bed and the first to wake in the mornings. Laura frowned at the dark, quiet kitchen and the empty coffee pot. Her first thought was that Natasha might be sick if she was sleeping in. As she walked back through the living room towards the stairs, she registered that the couch was vacant. Laura frowned and she hastened her steps as she headed upstairs. 

Beauregard was stretched out across Natasha’s doorway. He stood when Laura approached and whined, sniffing the crack where the door would open. Laura threw open the door without knocking. The room was empty. She whipped out her phone and dialed Clint.

“Answer your phone, answer your phone,” Laura chanted under her breath. 

“Hey?”

She could hear the puzzled frown in her husband’s voice. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” she said. 

“What?”

“The alarm the other night. It wasn’t a raccoon. It was Barney. And now he’s gone and Natasha’s gone and, God, Clint, what if he kidnapped her?”

Clint would’ve laughed, but he could hear the panic at the edge of Laura’s voice. “Sweetie, Nat can take care of herself. It’s literally equally as likely that she kidnapped him. Except that I don’t know why anyone would want him. Take a deep breath.”

Laura obediently sucked in a lungful of air. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t really call the cops. Can I? I’d bet money there’s an outstanding warrant on Barney. Should I call the cops?”

“No,” Clint said firmly. “No cops. Is there a circus in town?”

“Are you really making jokes at a time like this?” She walked to Natasha’s bedroom window and glanced outside. “Barney’s car is gone.”

“And Nat’s phone?” 

Laura looked around, a quick visual search of the room. “I don’t see it.”

“Try calling her.”

***

07.25.02; 06:15

41.5454114,-87.9542935 (Highway near Joliet, IL)

Barney nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone began buzzing. “Don’t answer that.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “It’s Laura. She’s probably freaking out because I’m gone.” She picked up the call. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving.”

_ “Oh thank God. Where the hell are you?” _

“I’m-”

_ “You get your ass back here right now, young lady. You cannot just up and disappear on us like that.” _

“I’ll be back in a few days. I’m just helping Barney with something.”

There was silence. Natasha imagined she could hear Laura’s nostrils flaring. 

“I’m fine,” Natasha said. “Everything’s okay, and I’ll be back in a few days.”

_ “I’m going to kill him.” _

“It was my idea,” Nat countered.

_ “You don’t understand how this works, Natasha. You can’t just earn my trust, make me care about you and then run off with some idiot to get yourself killed or worse.” _

Natasha pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“ _ Not half as sorry as you’re going to be _ ,” Laura promised. 

Natasha winced as she tucked the phone back into her pocket. She reached out and turned the radio up.

“Hey,” Barney said. “I can handle my brother and his wife. You don’t have to lie to them to protect me.”

Natasha cranked the radio up even louder.

***

07.25.02; 22:38

38.5228284,-77.2944798 (Quantico, VA)

Natasha slipped into the passenger seat and Barney smiled at her. 

“Good job.”

“Thanks.” Natasha smiled back. The expression felt almost foreign, her lips and cheeks uncertain. Had it been that long since she’d smiled?

Barney leaned across the front seat and kissed her deeply. It had definitely been that long since she’d been kissed. He broke away with a hungry look in his eyes. “Yeah, um, thanks. For helping.”

“We should get going. Long drive.”

***

07.30.02; 20:34

42.7623128,-92.4896379 (The Barton Homestead)

Natasha sat on the railing of the front porch, watching the sun sink towards the horizon. 

“Get off that railing before you fall and break your neck.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Clint. He glared back at her, walking over to sit on the front steps. 

“Figured if you were going to kill me, you’d want to do it outside. Easier to clean up. Wouldn’t want bloodstains on the wood floors.” She hopped down and circled around to sit next to him.

“Where’s Barney?” 

“Dropped me off and left. Figured it was better if he didn’t see you after all.”

“What did you two do?” Clint’s voice was low and soft, none of the anger Natasha had expected. His calm somehow frightened her more. 

“Planted listening devices,” she answered. 

Clint folded his hands in his lap and waited.

“On the to-go cups in a diner,” Natasha added.

Clint’s eyebrows elevated slightly. 

Natasha dropped her gaze to the dirt. “In Quantico Virginia,” she mumbled toward the ground. 

“You’re spying on the FBI now?”

“All I did was strike up a friendly conversation with the young man working the place.”

Clint rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Natasha sighed. “He wanted you to help. I thought maybe taking your place on the job would be a start towards repaying you.”

“Except I wouldn’t have done it!” Clint snapped, raising his voice. 

Natasha flinched and he instantly regretted it. 

“Look,” he added gently. “Despite what Laura thinks, Barney’s not an idiot. He’s a highly intelligent, very dangerous, and manipulative abuser. He uses people. He wouldn’t have cared if he’d gotten you killed.”

“It wasn’t dangerous,” Natasha insisted. “I’m sorry I worried Laura, but it -”

“Wasn’t dangerous?” Clint stood and paced a few steps. “Because he said it wasn’t?”

“Because it was one bored, lonely kid, wiping deserted tables with a dirty rag. He told me I was pretty and comped me a milkshake. It was the least dangerous job I’ve ever done.” Natasha leveled her gaze at him. “I’m not an idiot either.”

“Don’t do it again.”

Natasha stood and prowled towards him. “I want to work. I have some very marketable skills in the right market. Or the wrong one. I like it here, but I don’t belong here.” She touched his arm lightly. 

“You worried me too,” Clint admitted. “Do you want me to talk to Fury about a job?”

“Yes.” She answered without hesitating. 

“I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Natasha snorted. “No one ever does.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More domesticity. A death and a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might make you cry.

08.23.02; 11:57

42.7265184,-92.4672995 (Bremer County Courthouse)

“Well, that’s it.” Clint loosened his tie as he they walked out of the courthouse. “It’s done.”

“I feel like we should celebrate,” Laura said. “Let’s go out for lunch.”

Clint nodded in agreement. “Natasha, your choice.”

“A cheeseburger. French fries. Apple pie,” Natasha listed off foods. “I’m an American citizen now, I’d best start eating like one.”

At lunch, Natasha ripped the wrapper of her straw and blew the paper across the table at Clint. “Did you talk to that guy about that thing we talked about?” she asked. 

Clint picked up a straw and prepared to return fire. “The job?”

Natasha glanced at Laura. “Yeah, that thing.”

“After your birthday, we’ll do an eval.”

Natasha sighed. “That’s months away.”

“You could start meeting with the psychologist right away,” Clint offered.

Natasha crinkled her nose. “I’ll wait.”

Laura squeezed a slice of lemon into her iced tea. “SHIELD?”

Natasha and Clint exchanged a guilty look. Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head. “God help me.”

***

09.04.02; 15:02

42.7623128,-92.4896379 (The Barton Homestead)

Beau grunted happily as Natasha ran a brush over his fur. 

“Does that feel good?” she cooed, plucking a burr off his leg. “Who’s a handsome boy?”

Beau wagged his tail and rolled onto his back. Natasha continued talking to him as she brushed his chest. She stopped mid-sentence when a red convertible pulled into the drive. 

She stood, tucking the handle of the brush into the back pocket of her jeans and dusting the dirt and dog fur off with her palms. A man got out of the car and she could sense his gaze from behind the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. 

The sun gleamed off his high forehead. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit, but his tie hung loose and his top button was unfastened.

He nodded as he approached. “You’re her. You must be.” He pulled off his sunglasses, his eyes raking over her. “So you’re the Black Widow.” 

Natasha shook her head, one corner of her mouth turned up in a close-lipped smile. “Not today. Today I’m just Nat. Brushing the dog and weeding the garden. Can I help you with something?”

The dog wagged his tail, sniffing at the man excitedly. 

“Hey Beau,” he said warmly. He ruffled the dog’s ears with one hand and extended the other to Natasha. “Phil Coulson. I work with Clint.”

Natasha shook his hand with a firm grip. “Nice to meet you.”

“Is the lady of the house around?”

“She’s inside.” Natasha gestured to the front door. 

Beau bounced up, knocking his muzzle against the man’s hand. 

Coulson broke into a broad grin. “Oh, did I stop petting you? Poor boy. Let’s go find Laura and see if she’ll let me give you a treat. Should we do that?” 

Watching the man fuss over the dog, Natasha couldn’t help but smile.

“You should come in too,” Coulson added in a more composed tone. The seriousness in his eyes gave Natasha a jolt. 

She followed him into the house, her heart suddenly racing. Her skin tingled with heightened awareness. 

“You’re just in time.” Laura was pairing jars and lids in long rows on the countertop. “Why am I always one lid short?” she muttered. She looked over and her face lit up. “Phil. What brings you out?”

She wiped her hands on a dishrag and came over to hug him. Natasha watched them embrace. 

“First things first, Beau needs a treat. May I?” 

Laura rolled her eyes. “Sucker. You know where they are.”

Beau’s whole back end wagged as he followed Coulson to the pantry. “Sit.” Coulson’s voice was gentle but commanding. The dog sat. As soon as the man opened his mouth for the next command, Beau brought one of his front paws up. “Yes, shake, that’s right. Good boy. Alright.” He held out the treat, and Beau accepted it, retreating to his corner of the kitchen to eat it.

Coulson washed his hands at the kitchen sink, drying them on the same rag Laura had used. “I didn’t come here just to see Beau.”

“I figured.” Laura’s lips curved in a half smile. 

“Clint is fine. He’s okay,” Coulson said very plainly. 

Laura’s smile evaporated.

“He fell through a staircase and dislocated his knee.”

***

09.09.02; 16:42

Natasha registered an awareness of the man before he spoke, but she ignored him, filling her basket with tomatoes. He glanced towards the house before shuffling closer to her. 

“Hey,” Barney said softly, not wanting to startle her. 

“Hey.” Natasha pulled a tomato off the vine and tossed it onto the compost pile. 

“I, uh,” he peeked over his shoulder at the house again. “I came into a little money and I thought maybe I should pay you for helping me before.”

She paused in her work and gave him a look with her eyebrows raised. Barney took that as a cue to offer her an envelope with dirt ground into the creases. She took it and tucked it in her pocket without looking at the contents.

“You should call your brother.”

“What for?” Barney asked. 

“Because he’s family, doofus.” She rolled her eyes. In a lower voice she added, “Clint’s hurt. He busted up his knee at work. Surgery on Friday. He could probably use a little extra help around here while he recovers. It’d be real brotherly of you to offer.”

“I’ll think about that. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

***

09.14.02; 09:35

Barney slipped his arm under Clint’s, wrapping around his little brother’s ribs. 

“I have crutches,” Clint objected.

“I’m here to help.”

Clint settled his arm over Barney’s shoulders with a sigh. His brother practically carried him up the two steps to the front door. Laura opened the door, and Natasha carried the crutches. They settled Clint on the couch. 

“Lay down,” Natasha said. “Get that knee elevated.”

“It’s fine,” Clint replied.

“I’ll get an ice pack,” Laura said, heading for the kitchen.

“I don’t need-” Clint began.

“The doctor said-” Laura began. 

“Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation,” she and Natasha said in unison.

“It doesn’t even hurt,” Clint insisted.

“That’s because you’re still all drugged up from the surgery,” Barney said. “When that wears off, you’re going to wish you’d listened to your wife.”

Clint flung himself back on the couch, swinging his legs up onto the cushions. He stared at the ceiling while Natasha adjusted the pillows under his knee. “Shoot me now,” he muttered. 

***

09.16.02; 08:12

Clint wound up sleeping on the couch, the crutches and the stairs being a bit too daunting. Barney took one of the extra bedrooms upstairs. The Bartons kept no alcohol in the house, so Barney didn’t drink. Sober, he was easier for Clint to deal with.

Barney’s beat-up Pinto was easier to get in and out of than the farm truck, and there was room in the back seat for his crutches. He drove to physical therapy. 

“You seem like you’re kind of getting your shit together,” Clint observed.

Barney shrugged. “Kind of.”

“How long are you going to stay?”

Barney shrugged again. “As long as you need me. I got no plans. You’ve got, what, six weeks of pt?”

“Barney, if you need a place to stay….” Clint rubbed his leg absentmindedly. “You don’t have to take off just because I get better. Stay clean and sober. Once I’m back on my feet, maybe you can get a job in town. I could talk Laura into letting you stay if you threw us a little money for utilities.”

“I don’t know.” Barney parked the car. “We’ll see.”

“The weather’s nice now. Six weeks from now it won’t be. I don’t want you living in your car over the winter.”

“We’ll see,” Barney repeated.

***

10.01.02; 05:24

“Are you sure you don’t mind us going without you?” Laura asked. 

“I’m fine,” Clint said. “Barney’ll be up in an hour.”

“We have our phones if you need anything,” Natasha said. 

“But if I call, I’ll scare off the deer,” Clint teased. “Barney and I will be fine. I’m glad you’re both going. I don’t like Laura hunting alone.”

Laura glared at him. “I have been bow hunting since I was eight, Clint Barton. I’ve gone alone before.”

Clint pursed his lips and didn’t answer. 

***

10.05.02; 13:56

Barney helped unload the car when they came back; Clint supervised from the porch. 

“Did you have a good time?” he asked. 

“Best ‘girl’s weekend’ ever,” Natasha declared.

“Your girl’s a helluva shot.” Laura shied back as Clint reached for her for a kiss. “I need about seven showers, baby.”

“I don’t care. I like it when you’re dirty.”

Laura chuckled and kissed him. “I missed you.”

“Me and Clint are cooking tonight,” Barney announced. “To celebrate the return of the mighty hunters.”

“Venison chili, assuming you brought the venison.”

“We did.” Natasha grinned like the cat that got the canary.

***

10.13.02 05:48

Natasha dressed quickly and ran a comb through her hair. She made a kissing noise, pursing her lips. “C’mon, Beau, wanna go out?”

The old dog didn’t stir from his spot on the floor near the foot of her bed. She smiled at him. “Beau,” she said louder. She knelt and touched his shoulder lightly. Natasha’s smile vanished. Something felt wrong. “Beauregard?” She pressed her palm to his side to give him a gentle shake. 

He was still. Completely still. His fur was cool against her hand. Natasha had been around enough dead bodies. Her chin trembled as she stroked his ears. He had begun to stiffen. She blinked rapidly, looking upward to drive back the tears that threatened.  

A cold emptiness settled in her chest as she walked downstairs. In the kitchen, Natasha washed her hands and started the coffee. She heard Clint noisily making his way down the stairs. He frowned when he saw her.

“Everything okay?” Clint asked. 

Laura paused with one hand on the door of the fridge. “You look upset.”

Natasha got out the coffee cups. “Beauregard’s dead. I went to wake him this morning and-” The tears she thought she’d banished suddenly broke loose. “And,” she choked out the word. Natasha slammed the mug down on the counter as she sobbed. Clint’s arms wrapped around her. Laura hurried upstairs. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clint said softly. “It’s okay.” He sniffled.

He held her tightly, patting her shoulder as she wept into his chest. Laura came back into the kitchen, and Clint waved her in with one hand. Laura came in on the side and Natasha broke one arm free to wrap around the older woman’s waist. Clint buried his face between their shoulders. He held his breath as long as he could and when he released it, his anguished cry made Natasha jump and Laura tighten her grip around him.

Barney stumbled into the kitchen and frowned at the three of them. “Who died?”

Laura’s tear-streaked face popped up. “Our dog, Beauregard.”

“Oh.” Barney approached slowly and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Shit. Sorry. I meant that as a figure of speech. He was pretty old, wasn’t he?”

“Almost twelve,” Clint answered. His brother’s presence forced him to regain his composure. “We’ve had him since he was a pup.” He dried his cheeks with his sleeve. 

Barney stirred a spoonful of sugar into the coffee. “You want me to take care of the body?”

Three pairs of eyes glared at him. 

“I’m trying to be helpful!” He sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry, okay? The closest I ever had to a pet was that guy right there.” Barney pointed at Clint. “I just meant, you know, he’s still supposed to be taking it easy on that knee. I could dig a grave or whatever.”

Clint looked at Laura. “Between the bushes out front?”

She nodded. “I guess that’s okay.”

“Where is he?” Barney asked. “And do you have a towel or an old blanket or something you don’t want that I could wrap him in?”

“He’s in my room,” Natasha said quietly. 

Barney’s face softened. “Yeah, he liked you.”

“I’ll get you a blanket and show you where to dig,” Laura said, extricating herself from the hug. “We’ll have a little service once the grave is ready.”

***

10.13.02 15:24

Barney found Natasha in the hayloft, stretched out on her back. “They’re ready to bury Beauregard,” he said gently. 

She slowly turned her head and looked at him. Her eyes were a little glassy, not quite focused, her pupils large in the dim lighting of the barn. 

“Are you okay?” Barney crawled the rest of the way up. 

“I’m great.” Her voice was flat and neutral. 

Barney frowned. “Are you on something?”

“Clint doesn’t take the pills the doctor prescribed for his knee.”

“Shit.” He knelt next to her. “How many did you take?”

“Just one. I’m not stupid. I’m not trying to kill myself. Just one to take the edges off everything. Everything’s soft now. No more broken edges. Don’t tell Clint.”

He laid down on his side near her. “First time losing something you cared about?”

Natasha giggled. “Not by a lot. I never cried for any of them. Not for Sofiya, she was my best friend. Not for James, at least he’s still alive. Not even for the baby. I never cried. I never grieved. I didn’t know how. That stupid dog had to teach me. And now I can feel it all. Or I could until the pill kicked in.”

Barney plucked a piece of hay out of her hair. “You gotta come down,” he said softly. “From the hayloft, not the drugs -- well, maybe the drugs too.”

“I’m not high,” she insisted. “I’m numb. Pleasantly numb.” Natasha closed her eyes. “Maybe I’m a little high. I’ve been so low so long.”

He sighed and got back up onto his hands and knees. “I’ll tell them you’re not coming to the funeral. Stay here, I’ll be back.” He started backing towards the ladder. “I mean it, I don’t want you falling trying to get down by yourself.”

“I want to come to the funeral.” She sat up. “Help me get down?”

Barney climbed down first, ready to catch her as she descended the ladder. She let go on the last rung and let herself fall into his arms. 

“Good catch,” she said softly. She cupped his cheek with one hand and kissed him. 

“Come on.” Barney took her hand and led her out to the porch.

Clint and Laura were wrapped up enough in their own grief that they didn’t notice Natasha’s condition. Clint spoke to the loyalty and friendship of the dog in a choked-up voice. Laura told a story that Natasha barely heard about the first time Clint introduced her to the dog. 

“Nat?” Clint’s voice broke through the fog. “Did you want to say anything?”

She knelt, picking up a handful of dirt. “He was a good dog.” The dark brown earth scattered over the mustard yellow blanket. 

***

10.13.02 23:18

Barney groaned. He rolled his eyes as he rolled himself out of bed. “Coming.” Shoving his laptop down between the bed and the nightstand, he padded across the room and opened the bedroom door. Natasha stared at him from the hall. 

“Did I wake you?” She stared at him with an intensity that made his pulse pick up.

“I wasn’t asleep yet,” he admitted. “You okay?”

“I can’t sleep in my room. In the room where he died. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I can’t sleep there tonight.”

Barney stepped back out of the doorway, letting her in. “You can sleep here. There’s a couch downstairs, I’m just going to-”

“I know there’s a couch downstairs, Barney,” Natasha interjected. “If I wanted to be alone, that’s where I’d be.”

Barney sighed in frustration and closed the door. He put his hand on her arm, keeping his voice low. “Look, sweetie, I’m not the guy who’s gonna hold you close and sleep chastely at your side all night. You’re all broken up about the dog and you need comfort and I can’t do that. I’m not that guy. I’m the guy watching porn and looking for the girls who look like you.”

His gaze dropped from her face to her body and he felt the goosebumps rise on her arms.

“Yeah.” Natasha’s hand swept forward to ghost over the front of his pajama pants. “That’s the guy I want.”

“Really?” Barney couldn’t -- didn’t try to -- hide his shock. 

Natasha pulled out of his grip to peel off her loose-fitting t-shirt. Barney reached back and, after a brief moment of fumbling, locked the bedroom door. 

“I ain’t gentle.” His hands rushed over her exposed breasts, callouses scraping the delicate skin. 

She pressed into his touch. “I wouldn’t know what to do with gentle.”

His stubble rasped against her jaw as he kissed her throat roughly; her hands pulled him closer at the feel of his teeth. Natasha squeezed her eyes tightly shut as the backs of her legs hit the edge of his bed.

***

10.13.02 23:24

Barney rolled off her with a shudder. “Oh. Wow. Christ,” he panted. He clumsily worked his sock off with the toes of his opposite foot while staring at the ceiling. 

Natasha sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her shirt back on. 

“You’re not staying?” His brow furrowed. “I thought you couldn’t sleep in your room.”

“I’m just going to hit the head.”

“Sorry that was kind of quick.”

“It was fine.” Natasha’s response came a little too automatically. 

Barney winced. “Yeah. Hit the light, too, on your way out.”

She nodded, pulling her pajamas on. She unlocked the door and flicked off the light. Natasha didn’t need a light in the hall to find her way to the bathroom. She took her time peeing, washing her hands and brushing her teeth for the second time that night. Barney was asleep when she got back to his room. 

She listened to his slow, steady breathing until her eyelids became too heavy to ignore. 

***

10.14.02; 05:50

“Sneaking out?” Barney whispered. 

By the way she jumped at this voice, it was clear Natasha had thought him still asleep.

“Your alarm’s going to go off in ten minutes anyway. I thought I’d let you get those last few seconds of sleep.”

He rolled onto his side, putting his hand on her hip. “This isn’t going to happen again, is it?”

She shrugged. “You weren’t that bad.”

Barney snorted. “Thanks. You really know how to bolster a guy’s ego.” He wriggled closer, wrapping his arm around her. “Look, I’m sorry if I was a disappointment. That’s kind of a running theme in my life.”

“You were exactly what I needed. But I don’t want to get caught sneaking out of your room.”

His arm slid off her lap. “Good point.”

***

11.05.02 02:29

Natasha shook his shoulder. Her voice was so quiet, it took Barney a moment to process what she was saying. “Did you take Clint’s pills?”

“I knew it,” he whispered. He rubbed his eyes. “I knew one wouldn’t be enough. I knew--” he tried to stifle a yawn “--you’d go back for more.”

“I had a nightmare, I thought it’d help me sleep. What’d you do with them?” She glowered at him. 

“Doesn’t matter; they’re gone.” His voice was gentle but unapologetic. 

“Clint’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“How’s he gonna find out?” Barney countered. “Apparently you get into his meds more often than he does. If you tell him, then you have to explain why you were looking.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Maybe, um, it’d help if you had someone to talk to. What was your nightmare about?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not that guy.”

“I do care about you,” he objected. “Try me. I’ll try to be that guy.”

Natasha crawled onto the bed and straddled him instead. “I don’t feel like talking.” She stripped off her shirt and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest as she kissed him.

***

11.22.02; 05:23

It was unusual for the kitchen to be occupied when Natasha woke up. The Bartons must have set an alarm to beat her downstairs. Clint lit up when he saw her coming. He struck a match, lighting a candle stuck into a pile of pancakes. 

“Please, don’t sing,” Natasha said. 

“Happy Birthday to you!” Clint began. Laura and Barney joined him. 

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Natasha! Happy Birthday to you!”  

Natasha tucked her hair back so it wouldn’t fall into the syrup as she leaned forward and blew out the candle. 

“Did you make a wish?” Clint asked. 

“I wished for coffee,” Natasha replied.

“Sit, eat. There’s presents after breakfast.”

Natasha took the plate to the table, where Laura was setting out four cups of coffee. 

Natasha smiled and picked up her fork. “Wish granted.”

Natasha’s gifts were mostly clothing and an MP3 player. Barney gave her a necklace with a topaz pendant. 

“You have two big presents,” Clint promised. “In fact, we can probably go pick up the first one now.” 

He pulled Barney aside as Natasha and Laura headed out to the car. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Barney asked. 

“You’re giving my daughter jewelry,” Clint replied. "My teenage daughter."

“Clint, she’s not like your daughter daughter.”

“I see what you’re doing. I will kill you. No one will miss you.”

Barney gave a little chuckle. “She will.” 

“Where are we going?” Natasha asked as she got into the backseat. 

“You’ll see,” was all Laura would say. 

***

11.22.02; 09:03

41.6593805,-93.5823491 (Animal Rescue League of Iowa)

“I don’t want another dog,” Natasha said, her voice quiet but firm. 

“Let’s just go in and have a look,” Clint replied. 

They wandered past kennel upon kennel. There were round-bellied puppies that wagged their tails so hard they knocked themselves over. There were white-faced dogs that barely lifted their heads. There were big dogs and small, black, white and brown. 

Natasha sat down on the floor and stuck her fingers through the wire mesh side of an enclosure. A dog slowly limped to the front of the kennel and gave Natasha’s hand a sniff. Her tail began to wag. 

“Nat?” Clint prompted.

“This one.”

He looked at the little card detailing the dog’s information. “There must be thirty happy, healthy dogs, and you pick the one that’s missing a leg. You’ve got a special love for broken things, don’t you?” Clint asked.

“Mr. Kettle, there’s a pot for you on line two,” Natasha replied without looking at him. The dog was tentatively licking her fingers.

Laura peered around Clint. “Sounds like she’s had a hard life. Are you sure?”

“This one,” Natasha repeated. “She’s only three. She can have a better life.”

“Have you got a name picked out?” Clint asked.

Natasha smiled. “Aerodynamic, Aero for short.” She gave Clint a look. “Tell me you didn’t name him Beauregard just so you could call him Beau.”

Clint grinned guiltily and didn’t deny it.

The dog, all sixty pounds of her, rode to the farm in Natasha’s lap. She threw up about twenty minutes from home.

***

11.22.02; 13:08

42.7623128,-92.4896379 (The Barton Homestead)

“Just stay put, I’ll get some towels.” Laura threw open the car door and ran into the house. 

Barney opened Natasha’s door and held out his hand. “Here, I’ll get the dog cleaned up.”

Natasha nuzzled the top of the dog’s head before handing over the end of the leash. She was the first to notice the black SUV parked in the driveway. 

“Clint.” There was a quiet urgency in her voice. 

“Hm?”

“Someone’s here.”

Clint glanced at the other vehicle. “That’ll be your last present. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Natasha showered quickly and put on fresh clothes while Clint and Laura worked on cleaning up the car.  A man dressed in black from his boots to his eyepatch was waiting on the couch when she came downstairs. He stood, and the movement caused his coat to fall open enough to reveal the pistol holstered at his hip. 

“Nick Fury.” He held out his right hand.

Natasha reached out to shake it. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“I’ve heard.”

***


End file.
